


a lover lost to time is the worst kind of crime

by alexanderlightweight



Series: Words of October 2019 [10]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Blood, Confusion, Dimension Travel, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Mistaken Identity, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 10:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20890298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexanderlightweight/pseuds/alexanderlightweight
Summary: a dimension accidentally traveled, a loved one lost and two friends who definitely haven't shared enough drinks to deal with it.





	a lover lost to time is the worst kind of crime

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers/Warnings at the end 
> 
> This is for the second date of Whumptober: Explosion

The world exploded in a burst of blue and Alec welcomed it. 

That color would always be comforting to him and even now, in what he assumed was to be his death, he welcomed the familiarity of it. 

Death did not come, though pain did. He could feel blood seeping through his sweater. A frown formed on his lips at the thought. It was a new sweater, a cream turtleneck that he'd gotten on one of his and Magnus' shopping trips. It was warm and luxurious and Alec had loved wearing it almost as much as Magnus had loved seeing him wear it. 

A voice spoke, trying to reach him but he couldn’t make out the words and his frown deepened. He was losing blood, far too much too fast and at this rate, he might miss more than just a dinner date with his husband and that, _that_ was intolerable. 

It took effort, took him gritting his teeth and trying desperately not to drift as he rolled onto a side. A hand reached out, touching his shoulder and he couldn’t even muster the strength to try and flinch away.

“A mundane-“ he heard and silently scoffed. If they were calling him a mundane then they were apart of the Shadowworld and it was very obvious with the amount of runes on his body that he was not a mundane.

_ Oh, _ he sighed at himself again, he was wearing a turtleneck. Fashion truly was the deadliest weapon of life and it had betrayed him. He was going to burn the sweater, after he stopped losing blood.

Wound healed. Then sweater death. Wait no. Wound healed. Finding Magnus. Then burn sweater. A much more coherent and prioritized plan. 

_ Well done Alec. _

“Blood. Too fast. Risk it-“

Alec wanted to ask the people to make sense, but his words wouldn’t work and then a palm filled with familiar blue fire entered his vision. Alec didn’t even think, just used the rest of his energy to push himself forward, falling face-first into his husband’s hand and sighing in relief as familiar magic washed over him.

“Recognize him-“

“-possible?”

He recognized the one voice now, it sounded like Magnus did when he used an accent. The other was unfamiliar but if Magnus didn’t find them a threat, then Alec would also reserve judgment. Well, he wouldn’t assume they were an enemy, he couldn’t promise not to judge them though. Magnus knew a lot of irritating people after all.

-

Magnus blinked dazedly at the poor mundane he’d literally stumbled over and who had just tried to smother himself with Magnus’ palm and magic.

“I don’t think he’s quite alright after all,” Ragnor informed him from where he was rather unhelpfully watching several feet away. “Most mundanes would be jumping away from you, not diving at you like you were the Thames and they dying of thirst.”

“Not even a man dying of thirst would dive into the Thames, Ragnor.” Magnus said unthinkingly, “we both know that.”

“Which is why he must be truly desperate and unwell to do so.”

Magnus caught on a second later and sent his chortling friend a truly chilling glare, even going so far as to drop his glamor.

Ragnor gave a mocking gasp and held up his hands, “oh dear! I’m so very intimidated Magnus! A kitten is mad at me!”

“I am going to curse every cottage you own to play the harp endlessly,” Magnus promised quietly, knowing how much Ragnor detested the stringed instrument. 

“What was that my dear?”

“Nothing Ragnor, open a portal will you?”

“We’re bringing him with us then?”

“Only for now. I’ll heal him and if he has any memory of this, I’ll simply erase it and send him on his way.”

Honestly, it was more hassle to heal the mundane than to let him die but Magnus wasn’t completely heartless.

-

Magnus collapsed onto his sofa, sending Ragnor a glare as his dear friend had stolen his preferred armchair while Magnus had healed the mundane. In an attempt to be professional, Magnus had used mostly potions for the healing, the only magic he’d used had been to mend the stranger’s attire. Mundanes weren’t his particular cup of tea when it came to healing and actual magic tended to leave more of a signature than potions did. He wasn’t trying to paint a target on his back and if it was needed, the mind magic was already too much of an identifier for his liking.

“Poor us a drink, will you cabbage?” He asked and Ragnor gave a long-suffering sigh but did as requested, even going so far as to send the drink to his hand. Magnus took a long, satisfying sip and sighed, feeling as though he could finally relax.

A few drinks later and they were both content with the recovering mundane the very last thing on their minds. After all, between the potions and the blood he’d lost, as a mundane he’d be kept unconscious for at least a day.

As if to punish him, neither he nor Ragnor heard the door as it was opened or the footsteps, he tread more silently than death and was nearly a harbinger of it as he almost gave them both a heart attack. 

The first thing Magnus noticed upon gathering his wits was the very attractive chest. Self-preservation was one of his most well-honed skills and he scolded himself for being distracted even he recognized angelic runes and stiffened in alarm.

“That,” Ragnor said with wide eyes, “is not a mundane. How on earth did you manage to bring a _ Nephilim _ home? They’re well endowed angelic warriors, not bloody strays!”

“Coming through your portal must have meant he didn’t set any wards off,” Magnus said and bit his lip. The Shadowhunter had turned towards him, focusing on him with the intensity of a famished predator and Magnus narrowed his own unglamoured eyes. He was no prey to be intimidated by someone just because of something so infantile as the gaze of an self-righteous angel-blessed.

“Magnus!” Was said in far too loud and far too... he stared. Had that been delight and relief in the Shadowhunter’s voice? He miscalculated, risking a shared look of bewilderment with Ragnor and then the Nephilim was on him.

Literally.

The magic that had leapt up to defend him dispersed into sparks that felt as confused as he did. 

There was a shirtless Nephilim curled up on his sofa, half in his lap with his face pressed against Magnus’ stomach and his neck bared, the enticing curve of a rune drawing Magnus’ attention.

“I think,” Ragnor said somewhat shakily, “that we might need another drink my friend. For fortifications sake.” 

-

An hour later the only thing more alarming than the fact that Magnus had brought home, healed and was now playing cushion for a Nephilim was that said Nephilim had grumbled and pouted -_ very prettily Magnus had admitted sheepishly _\- every time they’d tried to move him.

At least, that had been the most alarming thing until the wards began to thrum, powerful vibrations causing tectonic shifts in the magic around them.

“You have him!”

Ragnor stared in shock at the figure that suddenly excited the portal. A portal that should not have even been able to form due to copious and powerful amounts of warding but a portal that had formed nonetheless 

Across from him, a bewildered Magnus stared into the face of someone who was differently adorned but still very much his near exact likeness.

“My word,” Ragnor muttered to himself, “what a day this is turning out to be.” 

“Magn’s?” The Shadowhunter that Magnus had been instinctively cradling looked up and then unsteadily bolted forward. He crashed into Magnus’ doppelganger with all the delicacy of a charging rhino and… Ragnor covered his eyes.

“Why is that Shadowhunter kissing me? Ragnor, why is there another me?”

There was no answer, the other Magnus too busy eagerly returning a fairly desperate and sloppy kiss and Ragnor was simply too shocked. Perhaps, he thought to himself rather hopefully, perhaps he and Magnus had simply indulged in too many drinks and this was nothing more than a truly repugnant dream. The kind that would keep him from imbibing alcohol for at least a decade in fear of a repetition. 

Ragnor would have happily accepted that as the truth, the loss of alcohol for a decade or more was a much smaller price to pay than the idea that in some far off universe Magnus was consorting with a Nephilim. Indelicate, unemotional brutes the lot of them, Magnus was far too good to be messing around with one of those angel-blessed, sword-happy and rune covered ingrates. As if to personally spite him, this other version of Magnus flooded both the room and the Nephilim with magic, healing whatever leftover damage there was, shaking the room to it’s core and all without the still-open portal having the decency to waiver. 

“Thank you for looking after my wayward love,” said this new strange, terrifying version of Magnus. 

Ragnor desperately summoned another drink for both him and Magnus. His Magnus. The sane Magnus who would never do anything so truly and depressingly self-destructive as committing and admitting to relationship with a Nephilim. Ragnor took a fortifying sip and resolved to refer to the idiot as Bane, for undoubtedly he must be the bane of whatever Ragnor lived in his world’s existence. 

“Love?” Magnus asked in practically a squeak, his face pale and hand practically shaking around his glass of whiskey. 

“_ My _ love,” Bane said, as though he were proud of such a travesty, “Alexander Gideon Lightwood-”

Magnus choked on his drink, interrupting the introduction and he wheezed. 

“Is he okay?” The half-naked lover of someone who was truly one of Asmodeus brood asked, “he doesn’t seem like he’s okay.”

“I think they’re in shock,” Bane said and he chuckled, obviously amused by their torment. Quite frankly, Ragnor despaired of their continued survival at this rate. 

“Hmm, missed you,” and the Nephilim, a male heir of a prestigious, coveted and much exalted bloodline snuggled up against Bane and pressed soft, tender kisses against his face. Ragnor felt as though encountering the apocalypse would have been more forgiving to his nerves than this encounter. 

“Really? You looked pretty cozy over there.” 

“He didn’t smell like you,” the Shadowhunter protested, “wasn’t the same.” 

“Well I’d certainly hope not, otherwise I might think he’s trying to steal you away.”

“Nope,” Ragnor interjected, “not at all. He’s all yours, take him away. Please, leave. Happy to be of service and all but you really should be going. Portal strain and whatnot, you don’t want to risk being late for supper!” 

“Well, thank you for taking such good care of my beloved,” Bane said and Ragnor didn’t trust the devious twinkle in his eyes. They were almost at the portal when he turned, smiled at them both and said, “now gentleman if you’ll excuse me, I have a husband to take home.”

Sometimes, Ragnor thought as Magnus’ glass exploded and the portal disappeared, the most devastating of attacks were the ones you least expected. 

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers/Warnings: Ragnor and Magnus' shock is because it's a different time. Nephilim and Warlocks are NOT on friendly terms and they're both very inebriated. Ragnor's reaction is because he's drunk and confused and worried about Magnus' safety/sanity in engaging what he's currently rationalizing as very unsafe behavior and he's also being over-dramatic. It's kind of like when you're drunk and your friend rips their shirt and you both think it's the Most Dreadful, Tragic, End of the World.
> 
> I'm on tumblr as [alexanderlightweight](https://alexanderlightweight.tumblr.com)


End file.
